A Dark Phantasy
by HisImmortalBeloved
Summary: When Christine leaves the Phantom, he is lost. A girl crosses his path. The outcome? Passion. Betrayal. Savagery. Hate...love. A tale about the events that occur during the Phantom's final weeks.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia

This story is…odd. It is formatted, as to be read directly from the Phantom's mind. A mind is not organized; it is composed of thoughts and emotions…VOILA

Chapter 1

_How cruel life must be to let me wallow in this never-ending misery. Christine hath left me. Anger. Rage. Frustration…sadness. My personality is so, that emotions rush through me like a tied that hits the shore. They leave me just as quickly. _

_So I shall see to my opera house, and insure that all its glory is fulfilled before my permanent departure. _

_But what's this? A girl. I do not recognize her. Why does she lie on the ground? Wait! Why am I walking to her? No, Erik you should turn around and leave. She is just a silly girl. But…why does she not move. All right, you'll go and see if she's alive, then you'll turn around and leave. Yes, good idea. Excellent._

Erik moved with caution towards the girl sprawled on the ground in the middle of the entrance hall of the Opera House. He reached his gloved hand out to touch the girl. Not a centimeter was left in space when she tossed her head. Erik jumped back.

_So beautiful. Erik! Christine just left you. How can you have thoughts of another when the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE IS GONE! But look, I did nothing wrong. I just want to touch her cheek. It looks so soft. So beautiful. Oh, God help me. What is this girl doing to me?_

Erik advanced towards her again. He reached his hand out ever so slowly when she let out a soft sigh and opened her eyes. A moment passed as Erik froze in his place and he looked into those large eyes. The girl blinked once, and Erik was gone.

_Erik turn dammit! Go. Good, turn the corner here. Yes. Think. Think! Walk; yes one foot in front of the other. Yes good. Open the trap door. Enter. Yes. Now your safe Erik. Take a breath and calm yourself. _

Erik leaned on the cellar wall for support. His head tilted, his forehead against the cold surface.

_Violet, her eyes were violet. _


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia.

Erik's Id, Ego, and Super-Ego are talking to him. If you don't understand what that means then take philosophy. OR, ask me and I'll be happy to explain it. All right, now I'll shut up and let your read.

Chapter 2

_Oh God. Violet. So rare. So beautiful. Maybe she can be different? OH SHUT IT ERIK! No one will ever be different. You will live alone and die unwanted. No one will now of your death. No one would care. Why will you put yourself through hell again? Just forget about her._

_But what if she is different? To let her go will surely be the greatest crime. Wait. I don't even know her name. Think Erik. Think…_

_Yes, there, I shall and learn of her name. Something to do. Yes. See, I'm not doing anything wrong. Just trying to pass time by. Yes. I'll make a little visit to the management. _

Erik left the confines of his home under the Opera House, and went to find out information about the girl with the violet eyes.

* * *

_Who was that masked man? Where am? Oh, I know this can't be good. The Paris Opera House. Uh! What did I get myself into this time? Ok. Think of information. I am eighteen years old. Ok, check. I have violet eyes. Uh, where is a mirror. Yes! I see one. Good. Ok. Yes, check. Ok, I look like myself. My voice is the same. And my dialect is that of a girl from the 21-century. Ok. Good. Ok, more information…_

_Oh good! A man. Ok let's go up and talk to him. _

"Excuse, sir." The man turned around to look at Ameilia. He seemed mesmerized by her eyes for amount. He gave a slight shake of his head and focused on her face.

"Oui?"

"I'm just curious to know what year it is."

"Oh." He seemed surprised by her question. He looked at her as though she were an odd piece of art he couldn't understand. " Ze year eez Vun thouzound- Eight hundred et sixty- fur."

Now it was time for Ameilia to look at him oddly. "Surely…" She gave a light laugh. "Surely, your mistaken sir." The man pulled his shoulders back as if her words offended him.

"Non. Zet is ze year. Now, excusez-moi." He pushed past her and turned a corner, leaving her alone.

_Wow, Frenchie's got pride. Ok, 1864. Last thing I remember is looking at a book in the library. I opened the leather-bound journal…and then what? _

Ameilia put her fingers to her temple trying to concentrate.

_Uhg, and then what? There was…a rose in the pages. I…what? I picked it up…and everything started to spin. I remember hitting my head really hard on the floor. _

She brought her hand up to the back of her head and felt it for bump. She brought her hand in front of her face and saw a small trace of blood.

_Ok, that explains the stinging. So that part wasn't a dream. But this must be. Time travel. AND NOT EVEN IN THE SAME DAMN COUNTRY! All right, calm. Calm yourself._

A group of girls came by at that moment interrupting her thoughts. They entered a set of large doors. Ameilia always letting her curiosity get the better of her forgot her previous thoughts and went to see what new treasures she could discover.

* * *

_Well, damn me! No one has heard or seen of her. Have I finally lost all sense? Is she merely a figment of my imagination? Then she wouldn't reject me…she couldn't! She would be kind and caring if I truly conjured her up! _

_Oh, Christine, why! You're off with you handsome beau. I'm left alone, to come home to a cold room. No enticing body heat to join in bed. No face to look upon. No trace of bliss. _

_But, wait? What's this? I don't understand. No…my view from Box Five is clear. My eyes do not deceive me. IT IS SHE! What she doing? Oh no, the foolish girl! Stop!_

Ameilia walked long the rows of chairs, running her fingers along backs. Her attention was brought up to the stage.

_I know this opera. Uh, what was it called? Othello. Yes Othello, love story of Desdemona…her tragic fate. The jealous Othello, the scheming Iago. Yes, definitely a favorite. _

_This is a dream, is it not? So if I just went a little closer to the stage, no harm will be done. Just a little closer. Ok. I'm on the stage. This must be a dream…It so beautiful. Pictures don't do justice to this breathtaking sight._

"OW!" Amelia fell on her backside as a pompous woman with heavy stage makeup began going on a rant. Ameilia was fascinated, because never in her life had she seen a human who commanded such negative attention from her peers by screaming like a banshee. Her head tilted to the side, she could only gaze at ear piercing sight with awe. Her thoughts were cut short when a heavy set man picked her up as if she weighed a feather.

"End ouw de you tink are? Little ugly!" The woman was addressing her now. All her life Ameilia had been short tempered. Or rather, she would enter fits of rage on a whim. Not in the sense of a Diva, no…this is far different. And idea would possess the mind causing her to act on raw emotion.

Now, she felt the signs of her anger. Her head gave a slight jerk to the right, as though she had been slapped. Then, WAR.

_Who does this man think he is holding me?_

She attempted to squirm out of his grasp but he would not release her.

_Why is this woman yelling at me?_

She looked the arrogant cow up and down. The anger was building. There were only moments left.

* * *

Erik looked with horror at the scene forming bellow him. Carlotta was being her natural annoying beauty. But the girl. He wouldn't have been able to identify with her if she wasn't flexing her fingers. Her face was a cool mask of indifference. But her knuckles were white with tension. He could only was transfixed as everything unfolded before him.

* * *

Still ranting. It was time now.

"Quiet." The deadly whisper escaped Ameilia's lips. That one word was so commanding that Carlotta actually took a step back as silence consumed the room. She reacted to it like a slap in the face. Then, her face was red and a new fit began with her accented screeching.

Adrenaline pumped through Ameilia's veins as she found a new strength to break free from the heavy man's hold. She advanced towards the woman who had caused such a rush of rage through her.

Every word was articulated and said in an even clear tone as Ameilia spoke. "Listen closely, who bitch of a woman. Talk to me in such a tone again, and I promise you, I will make Madame Guillotine seem like a blessing." This time Carlotta advanced, but Ameilia kept her ground and spoke before she could utter a word. "I hope we won't have the pleasure of meeting again." With an imitation of a smile, she waved her hand in dismissal to the woman. Carlotta, in her speechlessness huffed a cry of frustration as she turned and left.

* * *

Erik tried to contain himself as he watched from the shadows of box five. Never, in all the years Carlotta had been at the Opera House, had some one ever held the courage to so much as hold her gaze for more than a few moments. Then here, comes a girl, did not shy away from the haughty Diva. With a smirk on his face, he silently congratulated her on a job well done.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia.

Enjoy. I hope…

Chapter 3

Apparently they like me. This is a first.

* * *

Erik sat behind his organ wearing a poet's shirt and black pants. His hair was a mess around his face. One of his sleeves was pulled up to his elbow as his arm rested on his side. His other hand was cradling his face.

_Ameilia. Beautiful. Extraordinary._

He closed his eyes in bliss, gently tossing his head from side to side.

_Exotic. Different. Welcoming._

Erik got off of his bench and went to stand by unfinished portrait. It was of Ameilia.

_If I spoke to her in your sleep, I wouldn't be doing anything wrong. Speaking isn't a crime. Yes, that's it. I'll go and speak to her. Then she'll recognize me by voice. ERIK! What in hell's name do you think you're doing. Not again. Don't. Leave the girl be._

_But she won't know. She'll think me a voice from her dreams. Just to give her comfort. Am I not entitled to that much? I don't receive pleasure. Jut to gaze at her. See her respond to my voice will surely be enough._

_And if its not? What then Erik? Simply seeing her won't suffice. You know your obsessions. Why try and convince yourself otherwise. Think of the CONSEQUENCES!_

_…To hell with consequences._

* * *

_Another day. Another rehearsal._

"Ameilia!" Meg came running to her new friend from the stage. She needed a replacement ever since Christine left. "I got the lead in the dance!" Meg threw herself in Ameilia's open arms.

"Congrats! What did I tell you? Huh? I told you that you'd do fine. Didn't I? See?" She gave her friend a smile.

Some of the men in the company passed by and said their goodbyes to Ameilia, with only a stiff nod to Meg. Amelia didn't even spare a glance in their directions. After they left, Meg gave a knowing nod towards the men.

"How do you do that?" She asked Ameilia.

"What?"

"From what I've seen, you don't even talk to them. Yet, you have 'em eating out of the palm of your hand." Meg giggled.

Ameilia looked as if the statement confused her.

"I don't understand?"

"Oh, come know, I know you're not dense. They are practically throwing themselves at you!" Meg gave her a sly smile. "All the other girls envy you."

As if, to prove her point, a group of ballet girls walked by and stuck their noses in the air as they passed Ameilia.

"But I don't mean to lead them."

"Lead what?" Meg asked.

"Oh, right…sorry. I mean I don't try and make them attracted to me."

"Oh" She gave a light laugh. "You don't need to try. Everything about you…just…does it for them."

At Amelia's skeptical look, Meg gave an exaggerated sigh and went into detail.

"Your eyes. Your dark hair. Your flawless skin. Your attitude –

"What attitude!"

Meg looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh…I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Maybe it's the 'I'll do what I want and damn the rest' attitude." After she said the words, Meg seemed surprised that such a 'foul' word came out of her mouth. She looked at Ameilia in shock.

_Poor girl. I'm being a bad influence..._

Ameilia couldn't help herself, but let out a laugh. Meg soon joined in.

* * *

Erik was entering his home. He threw his cloak on the divan and went to poor a glass of cabernet. After he had the goblet in his hand, he went to sit in a large leather chair.

_Ugh, what's happening? All right Erik. Sort out the thoughts. Analyze. All right, lets see…_

_You were ready to jump done from our very secluded and comfortable spot in box five to strangle the life out of the chorus men. Damn that little foolish girl, Meg. I must have been daft. How foolish to assume I was the only man who felt for Ameilia. But no…they are savages! I must protect her._

_Erik. Who are you to protect her?_

He drank done the contents of his glass and held it in his hand gazing at nothing in particular, the furnace giving a soft glow on the side of his face.

_If the other men want her, let them have her. She is not your responsibility._

_But what if they force themselves on her?_

His glass shattered in his hand. He looked down and blood was oozing from the new wounds.

"Damn."

He went to a bowl on a stand to clean his hand. He looked up. On a mantle was a picture of his mother. He could see his eyes reflected in the frame. Then, his mind was made.

_If any one touches her…I'll send them to hell._


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia.

I don't need compliments…but even an "I'm reading this…" would be much appreciated.

Don't think any one is going to answer to the above statement anyway…so I suppose I can just hope that you like this...all right then.

Chapter 4

Meg walked up to Ameilia with her head bent down in shame as everyone exited the performance hall.

"Just say it."

"Say what?" Ameilia asked.

"You don't have to give me a complement because we're friends. Just say it. 'I'm terrible.'"

"You're not terrible. You just lack…passion."

"Passion. PASSION? What 'passion.' It's a bloody dance. I have the counts right. I did everything with exact precision. How is what I'm doing wrong?" Meg sagged down on the floor in an exclamation of total defeat. Ameilia joined her.

"You're right. You danced with the correct beat. But…do you listen to the music?"

Meg looked at her as though she lost her mind.

"You just said I danced the CORRECT beat of the music. Then you ask my if I LISTENED to the music?"

"Well…yes. There is emotion in the music. Show the emotion through dance." Ameilia got up and extended her hand to her friend. "Come. I'll help you." With a slight smile Meg took Ameilia's hand and allowed her to help her up. They walked to the stage and climbed onto the top.

* * *

_Uh. That was about the worst dancing I've seen in my life. Ha. But not nearly as bad as Carlotta. Oh God, why did she have to sing Desdemona. Any one would be better. Even that ballet rat down there._

His gaze traveled to the stage.

_Humph, the only pleasure I receive from the performance is when her beloved husband smothers the poorly played Desdemona in bed._

He grinned at his own malice. But then he frowned as a new revelation was revealed to him in his brooding.

_Piangi is rough during that scene. A bit to rough to come across as acting._

The thought was diminished from his mind quickly. He nearly choked on himself as he thrust out of the shadows and came as close as he would dare to the railing of box five. Below, Ameilia sang.

* * *

" All right Meg. I can't blame you for your performance because, truth is told, you wouldn't be able to apply jack-

"Jack?"

"Right, sorry. I mean you wouldn't be able to apply any kind of emotion with the way Carlotta sings. She makes a hyena eating dry toast seem liberating."

Meg giggled. Ameilia gave her a slight smile in return.

"Now…I'm an amateur, but I'll do my best to show you the passion behind that particular piece, so you can dance." Ameilia cleared her throat. And brought her shoulder's back in a mock pose.

"All right. Close your eyes. I wouldn't do this for just any one. So don't laugh."

Meg peeked through one eye and smiled. Ameilia smiled back. With a deep breath, she sang.

* * *

_Beautiful. Perfect pitch. Melodic…sensual._

Erik opened his eyes from the heaven he just came down from. He almost seemed surprised to be back in his own hell when he gazed down and saw Ameilia. Then, a new light appeared before his eyes.

_I can help her. Not in the same way as Christine. This time it would be different. Am I dead?_

He felt his body in a humorous gesture to see if he was transparent.

_S__urely a voice such as that cannot be from this earth that's so bleak…so very depressing. But no…hum, think Erik. THINK. What can you do?_

He tapped his fingers along his side, as he was lost in thought.

_I'll teach her._

_Erik, you FOOL! Again? Go through all the trouble AGAIN too be left in the end. Slave over her for that? To be left drowning in your own tears. Forget the bloodshed. Forget the trouble. Can you risk stabs to the heart anymore? Can you handle another desertion? Just like Christine._

_But she is not like Christine! Christine had a beautiful voice, yes. But she missed the passion. The skill. The emotion. Ameilia HAS that. I will just perfect the voice. I AM BLOODY ENTITLED TO SOME HAPPINESS. Am I not?_

_Erik, you lie to yourself. You will be the cause of your own destruction as you've always been, and this time…this time, you'll take another down with you. Leave the girl. Leave this place Erik._

_But it's all I know. I can't go out into society, not again…not after so many years. I'll just train her voice. Insure that she has a place among the company._

_Erik. Don't lie to yourself._

_All right. I'll make her the star that she was born to be. She will be extraordinary._

_And after?_

Erik looked down at Ameilia. She seemed so content, laughing with Meg. Oblivious to the fact that a man…so close to her would lay down his life…just to be with her for one day.

_She will be mine._


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux

No word…no one liked it? Eh…nothing wrong with that I suppose.

Chapter 5

Ameilia had taken her seat in the front row. She sat, talking to Meg, as the company took a short break. She had been sleeping with Meg in the dormitory. Her back was sore from lying on the floor. The managers of the Opera House, Monsieur Andrea and Monsieur Firmin, opened the entrance doors and came storming in. Speaking in hushed whispers but using their hand for exaggeration. It was an entertaining sight Ameilia decided as she smiled to herself.

* * *

Erik sat at his usual seat in box five and was waiting for the moment the news would be given to Ameilia. He wanted to see her jump up in glee. He wanted for her, the glory that had been denied him.

* * *

Ameilia thought nothing of the fact that the managers were storming down the aisles until she realized they were advancing towards her. She looked at Meg expectantly, but she just shrugged in confusion. The managers were huffing, their chests rising and falling rapidly with rage, by the time they reached the first floor.

"Mlle Ameilia Rosannia?" The one she knew as M. Firmin asked?

"Yes?" She answered boldly. So unlike the other timid girls around her.

"It seem," M. Firmin looked at M. Andrea for encouragement, "it seems that word has gotten to the wrong ear that you sing."

Ameilia looked at Meg accusingly. Meg shook her head in disigreement.

"Well," M. Firmin looked at both girls, "since it seems you are both ignorant of such information, I will _enlighten_ you. _The Phantom of the Opera_ commands you to take the stage!" Whispers of outrage sounded from all corners as the company began to gossip.

"That said. I find it necessary to ask you to leave the Opera House and never return."

M. Andrea waved his hand in a mockingly. "Goodbye."

They both turned to leave.

"Under what circumstance?"

The managers turned in shock as if their explanation should have sufficed. Ameilia raised her brow in expectation.

"Good God girl, are you mad? This establishment has not yet healed from the past encounter with the notorious _Opera Ghost_." He said the name with pure hate.

"I still don't understand why I must leave. I've nothing to do with this ghost you speak of."

"Ah, but you do!" M. Andrea exclaimed with his index finger in the air for emphasis. Again Ameilia found it difficult to contain herself with the laughter tempting to burst from her lips at the utter lunacy.

"We thought the bastard dead!" M. Firmin exclaimed. "Now, when you stumble here, he returns with bloody demands." He heaved a great sigh. Now his words were no more than a whisper. "Just like last time."

"Well then…just don't answer them if he's so much trouble." Ameilia said.

They looked at her as though she really were mad.

"I don't think you understand the depth of this…_delicate,_ situation. Men were killed last time such demands were made. If we do not meet them, then worse can happen. I fear for us all, should be stuck in such a predicament again."

* * *

_Damn and blast! I wasn't expecting this. Oh, I should of known. Now they think they know me. The fools. They think crazed menace with a face to mach insanity. Ha! They underestimate me. If Ameilia does not get her rightful place…there will be hell to pay. I'll shock them yet._

_Listen to yourself Erik. She even said that your threats were nothing. AND SHE HASN'T EVEN MET YOU YET!_

_Uh, that really wasn't how I planned her to hear about me for the first time. This must be reality. I would have had my way by now if it were a dream._

Erik's attention was brought up by a very clever suggestion made below.

* * *

"Excuse me. M. Firmin, M. Andrea? I know this may sound foolish…but have you actually heard Ameilia sing? I don't mean to pry in business that doesn't concern me, but she is really good."

"Is that not what you said last time Mademoiselle? Did everyone…not say…the same damned thing?" M. Firmin asked.

"If you thought Christine was good then please listen to Ameilia. You'll understand what I mean."

"This Phantom business is going to be my aneurism, I tell you," M. Andrea said with the wave of his hand indicating Ameilia to sing.

* * *

_Ha! Only thinking of business I presume._

Erik smiled with satisfaction at the sound of Ameilia's voice. No, this was far different than Christine. This was…music.

* * *

The company stared in awe.

"How…" M. Firmin seemed lost for words.

"Firmin…my head. The ache is gone!" M. Andrea turned to Ameilia. "How?"

"Told you she was good," Meg said, proud of her discovery.

"That. My dear. Is a great understatement."

M. Firmin and M. Andrea separated from the group crowded around Ameilia and discussed what their next action would be.

"Mlle Rosannia?"

Ameilia turned her attention to the managers.

"Your skills are great. It would be a devastation to let them go to waste. I suppose we can…use a new…chorus girl," he gave a cough in his discomfort, "that is, if you're still interested in staying at this, our," M. Firmin pointed to himself and M. Andre, "Opera House."

* * *

_ Their Opera House!_

* * *

"I'd be honored." Ameilia answered.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia and Damien.

Hello reader, I've come to a conclusion. I realized, as I listened to my IPOD, that the reason no one would like this story is because, obviously, they were looking for something along the lines of a romance novel. Hence… "Mature." So I decided to mix up my original idea for the story and give you a small peek of the sex ahead. Yes, there will be sex, and I'll make sure its to the liking of the reader, so…if you will be "offended" by my bluntness in later chapters…then don't complain and leave damnit. The ahead sex…depending on my mood…will not always be full of "love"…it might include rape and it won't be full of care. The very rude term of Fuck will also be used. Get a grip.

Thank you. Enjoy

Chapter 6

"Ameilia, wait."

Ameilia turned around questioningly. Rehearsal was over, and it had been a long one at that. She wanted to lie down and sleep.

"Stay back here. You'll get a glimpse of what its like to be part of the company."

Curiosity. Her weakness.

"All right. You've got my attention." Meg put her fingers to her lips to silence Ameilia. One by one. Group after group, members of the company exited. Ameilia noticed that only the younger portion of the company remained. After everyone left, Meg led Ameilia to the stage, were some of the men that apparently had eye for Ameilia sat, along with the dance member.

"So, what's all this?"

"Well, Ameilia. You didn't assume that we lived and breathed for the company, I hope?" The man that she now knew as Damien asked her slyly.

"I never assume." She answered in the same mischievous way.

"Good, then welcome to our club."

* * *

_What in the bloody hell is this._

Erik sat staring. He usually departed after Ameilia left so he didn't know what the other actors and dancers would do afterwards. To be honest, he really didn't care until the moment Ameilia started associating with them.

* * *

"And this club is?" Ameilia asked, continuing the conversation with Damien. The others sat with knowing smiles on their faces.

"Like I said, we have lives outside performing. The damn directors keep us under lock to insure our safety. God forbid something happened to us, lest their performance went up in flames." He gave a laugh and the others joined in.

_All right, this isn't amusing me anymore. I don't see what's so damn funny._

"You see, we need pleasure. We need something to sustain us."

Oh, that's the kind of club this is…I'll stay for a while, and then I'll leave, no harm right?

Ameilia was nervous. She wasn't ignorant. In every sense other than the fact that she was a virgin, she was NOT an innocent. Her knowledge was spread wide over topics she found interest in, and God help her, this was one of them.

"So, come and sit next to me. Lets give you an initiation."

* * *

_NO DAMNIT! Don't go. No…no, no. Don't be a fool. That pig only wants one thing from you! GET AWAY. Please._

Erik sat in his seat. His entire frame tense with worry and rage. He wanted to throttle that boy. But…he couldn't, this was not the time to reveal himself. He was ready to retch at the thought of what they would do to Ameilia.

* * *

Ameilia was confident in herself. If they wanted her to do something she didn't want to, she was sure she would be able to get the message across.

She sat next to Damien. After about half an hour she had observed the behavior of every one around her and had become slightly more comfortable. This "club" was composed of girls and boys, all young adults, who participated in activities that suit their personalities. The ballet girl known as…why try and hide it, the slut of the group, was all but having sex in corner with a stage boy. Another pair was simply making love with their tongues. All tame to what she had imagined. Damien interrupted her thoughts.

"Mia, it seems you've been granted favor with the Phantom of the Opera. I doubt it was merely your voice, although extraordinary, that gained his attention."

* * *

Erik was practically shaking in his seat with anger. He was crazed with bloodlust. He wanted to tear his genitals out with his hands and make him eat it for ever letting the thought of his enter Ameilia cross his mind.

* * *

Ameilia laughed. "Wouldn't you know?" She asked teasingly.

He was serious. "Yes, I would. Beauty bewitches the minds of men."

_Ok. He's leaning in. Ok. Ok. I don't know what to do. Damn. I'm legally an adult and I don't know what to-_

Thoughts…how easily they can be interrupted by a kiss. A first kiss.

Damien pressed his perfectly molded lips to Ameilia's petal soft buds. He teased them with his tongue until she opened for him. He slanted his mouth on hers and let his tongue explore the hidden pleasures. The kiss was soft, even timid at first. But then there was a new urgency. A need very great.

Damien crushed his lips against Ameilia's. His mouth was thrashing inside her mouth. Never letting go. She could hardly breath. He roughly pushed her back onto the floor. His hand grazed up her side until it cupped her breast.

A warming flashed in Ameilia's mind. This was getting out of hand. She tried to push against him, but he mistakenly thought that she was trying to grab hold of him in a fit of passion. His kissing became even rougher to the point of pain. His hand lightly holding at first was now squeezing her breast. His breath was ragged as he stole short breaths when he wasn't pushing is mouth onto hers. She desperately tried to push him off. He was relentless. Increasing his rhythm as he began to grind his hip into a place some thought forbidden. Obviously not him. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see him staring back at her. Hers were full of shock and pleasing, his was full of lust and madness.

"Ahh"

A cry so loud and piercing seemed to be the only thing that distracted Damien long enough for Amielia to free herself from her hold. He was on his feet looking into the darkness, searching.

"What the bloody hell-

He was cut short by Ameilia's knee making contact with his groin. He sagged onto the floor.

"Did you not get the fucking message that I wanted you off me?" Ameilia asked in outrage before she turned around and left.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia.

Sorry about the rudeness in the last chapter it was midnight and I hadn't slept for days. So…lets get to the story cause I know you don't care about my personal life.

ENJOY!

Chapter 7

_To hell with them all. I do EVERYTHING for her. I put my safety and security on the line for her, and this is how she repays me. BETRAYS ME! They are all the same. Little angels, then as soon as you give them a little acknowledgement, they stick their little diva noses high in the air and go with the first suitor that comes their way. Damn them all-_

"To Hell!" Erik screamed as rage overpowered him. Soon he was crashing every object in his domain against walls. Leaving only a trace of glass and wood behind him. He came to the picture of Ameilia he had painted and lifted it. He was about to through it across the room, when he saw her violet eyes stare back at him.

_So beautiful. So kind._

He sagged on the floor in defeat and clutched the painting to his chest, as his tears smeared the colors. Then, the unspeakable happened.

Erik dropped the portrait and clawed as his chest. His left arm went limp and he began breathing very loudly in panting rasps. He went into a pained position on the floor. His eyes were rounded and bloodshot from strain. His vision began to blur. He saw a shadowed figure above him before the darkness swallowed him and he welcomed complete numbness.

* * *

Ameilia slammed the door behind her and went to sit on the divan that now substituted for a bed. Meg came in a moment later.

"Well what in God's name happened back there?"

Ameilia looked at her with a scowl and sneered

"I mean, we introduce you…make you a part of our group, and you completely go crazed?" She waited for an answer and continued when she didn't receive one." You're unbearable. I mean genuinely unmanageable and unstable. You think you're so much better than the rest of us don't you?"

Ameilia looked at her. Expressionless.

"Just cause you're prettier than the rest of us and got some recognition from this…this ghost! He's not even man enough to show his face, and here you are thinking your better cause he picked you out. The rest of us had to work, you know. It was the same with Christine. He picked the prettiest girl out of the lot and tried to transform her into something special. But you know what Ameilia. Your nothing, and you'll never be anything either!"

There were many flaws in Meg's argument. Many things that Ameilia could have easily said back to make Meg to feel like the insignificant worm she acting like. Truth, she just didn't care anymore.

There is a point when you are told something, SO many times in your life…that it just leaves you numb. You can't bring yourself to mentally respond; therefore, your body doesn't either. Ameilia COULDN'T physically say anything because, at the moment, her brain had shut down. It seems the only thing she was capable of doing was getting up from her seat and leaving. When she was out of view from any one who might see, she did manage to allow a tear to spill down her cheek. When that happened, she seemed defenseless against the rush of rivers that flowed from her eyes, silently making their way down until they disappeared into a pool of dampness.

* * *

Erik opened his eyes to a most disturbing sight.

"Nadir, what the hell are you doing here."

"Hello to you too Erik," the man known as Nadir said light- heartedly, use to the Erik's behavior. "It seems, my friend, that you've acquired a heart problem over your 'lady friend.'"

Erik, knowing this man, he called friend, already had an idea of what this conversation would bring.

"Drop the matter Nadir."

"Oh Erik, come now. I was just curious to know what you planned to do with this one. It seems murder and arsine are only reasonable in a situation like this," he said sarcastically.

"Ah Nadir, and here I thought you came for my company," Erik mocked in an equally sarcastic tone.

"Now, now Erik, no need for this introduction. To the point, I hear you've chosen a new project. This…this Ameilia Rosannia, yes? And here, I was convinced that you actually cared for Mme. De Chaney."

"So I assume they've wed?"

"Yes, what did you expect? Christine would come back for you, understanding that you were her true love?"

"At a time…I would have welcomed that notion, but now…I have other interests."

"Erik, I think you need to think with your head instead of you zipper," Nadir pointed to Erik's genitals.

"This is MORE THAN THAT!" Erik roared with sudden rage.

"Erik, I am a man like you. I understand that there are needs for men. We are mere mortals at the willing command of our female companions. I understand that both Christine and Ameilia are extraordinarily beautiful. I also know, that you have pride, but perhaps for once, you can take the company of a street girl. If you pay Erik, they won't refuse you. You can just do this once so-

"ENOUGH!"

"Erik, here me through…"

"No. I said enough. I am not merely looking at Ameilia for…for that!" Erik motioned towards Nadir for what he said. "I just…need-

"Exactly Erik! You need! Like every other man. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Leave the poor girl alone, Erik."

Erik went to poor himself cabernet. While his back was turned Nadir spoke.

"Erik, even if she did accept you…you've long past your youthful years my friend. She is just entering her prime. What would you do? Force her to stay down here Try and feed her with your music, the way you thought you could for Christine. And then what Erik? Imagine. She stays here for a year. You won't let her go. Then what? Even if she love you Erik…she would come to hate you for stealing her life away. She would HATE you Erik. Do you understand?"

"Nadir," Erik shoulders, always pulled back and with the stance of an aristocrat, was now slumped with self-pity and shame, "just leave me."

Nadir heaved a sigh. "All right Erik. I'll leave. But next time she breaks your heart, don't expect me to be here to mend it." With that, Nadir left Erik's house for a final time.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux

Since this is based off of the book, please imagine that Piangi didn't die. Thank you...

Well...enjoy.

Chapter 8

_Why am I here? I don't understand. I shouldn't be here. I should be in my bed, in my country, in my house. This is depressingly pathetic._

Ameilia lay on the ground in the middle of the stage, brooding. Trying to pass time by contemplating the meaning of life.

_When will I wake up? This is ridiculous. I want to wake up!_

* * *

"Nurse, what are you doing standing around. Get to work. We're loosing her!" The doctor shouted to Nurse Grace.

"Doctor what do you want me to do? Give her an injection?"

"Yes. We need to calm the heart down." The nurse did as the doctor asked and Ameilia's heart rate was becoming normal again. "Yes…that's good, come on Mia. I don't want to be the one to tell your parents we lost you. You can make it. Wake up."

The nurse stood in a corner. Watching the scene. "Poor girl. How'd this happen in the first place?" She asked

"Was in a library when the woman at the front desk found her. She'd had a heart attack. So young. And healthy to! It's unfair Grace. Its always the innocent who get the short end of the stick."

"Do you think she'll come around out of the comma?" Grace asked hopefully.

"I…really don't know. I don't think her family can keep paying for life- support either. I hope she wakes up…"

* * *

"Ameilia?" Meg asked timidly.

"What could you possibly want, friend?" Mia asked

"I guess…I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean anything I said back there."

"Yes you did. But I forgive you." Ameilia sat up and looked at the girl before her. "I want you to know, that your words had no affect on me. However, I want you to know that I will never forget them. If we were all to die tomorrow, I would try to save you. But, I want you to realize that you wouldn't give me a second glance before you ran off to safety." Ameilia lay back down on the floor.

"Ameilia I said I was sorry-

"I tire of this conversation." She gave a wave of her hand dismissing Meg.

"You know what Mia. You're a bitch. And I'll never-

"Talk to me. Look at me. Be my friend again. The list can go on. As far as my being a bitch, well," she sat back up and looked at Meg with a slight smile on her face, "I suppose I learned from the master." With last sound of fury, Meg turned on her heel and stormed off. When she was at the exit door she stopped and faced Ameilia.

"You were staying in my room, but I here by kick you out. If you step in my room…I'll…I'll-

"Did you really think for one minute that I would have roomed with you again? Why do you think I've made myself comfortable here? Really Meg, and I thought by now SOME intelligence might have rubbed off on you." With a pitied look, Ameilia went back on the floor, and listened as Meg slammed the door behind her.

_Ahh, another day, another imbecile._

* * *

_"Save me from a broken heart!" Ha who said this little episode had anything to do with Ameilia! For all I know it can be hereditary. Heart problems. Who would have thought that would be the end of me!_

_Erik, she's killing you, the stress it to much, take Nadir's advice and get a nice whore to do your bidding._

_A whore. That's what my life has come to. To be like those drunkard pigs in the street that get disease infested prostitutes to save them from the seeds threatening to spill. No! What of Ameilia? How could I betray her so?_

_Erik! Listen to yourself. She's not yours to betray._

_He sank down on his knees and held his head._

"What should I do? Even if she's not mine to betray, I would feel disgusted with myself."

He gave a sigh.

_Hopeless Erik. You're hopeless._

_I know._

* * *

_Well, this isn't that bad. The floor's cold, but I like it. Nice open space. Privacy. Yes, this will do just fine._

Ameilia was judging the stage as her sleeping quarters, when a noise interrupted her thoughts.

"Who's there?" She asked.

"No need to worry ma cherie. 'Tis only your friend, Piangi."

"I wasn't worrying, and I don't recall sharing the same sentiment, _friend._"

"Oh, no need for such attitude now. I just have to put up an act around my wife." Piangi was circling Ameilia on the stage. "No, I dare say we will become the closest of friends." He stuck his face in the crook of her neck to smell her scent. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he made the final steps to face her.

_Well this is uncomfortable._

"I mean no offense when I say this sir, but I liked it better when we were enemies."

"Why do you fear me, ma belle? I won't hurt you." He pounced on her like a panther does his prey and roamed her throat with his tongue. Ameilia tried to push him off but his built wouldn't allow it, and so to get the point across, she gave him a sound slap on the face. He stepped back a few paces from the blow regarded her with curiosity. Rage, she could handle, but not the smile he gave her. That look threatened to turn her insides form disgust. He stepped forward and repaid her with a slap of his own, all the while smiling like a crazed maniac.

"Bravo ma petite. You just made the game more interesting."

With an ersatz bow, he turned and left her in the dark.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia

THIS IS RELEVENT!! To give a background of what you will later encounter in this chapter, please understand the below terms from Freud's structure model of the psyche:

Id: the inner desire

Ego: the balance between the Id and the Super-Ego (often referred to as the conscience)

Super- Ego: the mind's father figure…goes strictly against all thoughts made by the Id. ("the party pooper")

Chapter 9

The next day, Ameilia stood tense, and remained tense during the duration of the rehearsal. She would jump from the slightest touch from another. God forbid another cast member rubbed shoulders with her. Her reaction would be fists up, ready for a fight. Her entire demeanor was far more edgy than any company member would like to admit.

* * *

"Damn," Erik exclaimed as he desperately tried to find his trousers.

_Too much morphine. Uh, I slept through rehearsal. Damn! Were the bloody hell is my shirt._

He looked around until he found it on one of the pipes of his organ. His goal had been to dull his senses into oblivion when he took the extra dose of the drug, not miss a chance encounter with Ameilia. Erik walked over to the instrument that had claimed his life for so long and picked his last spare garment.

_Hello old friend._

* * *

Rehearsal was over by the time Erik reached box five. He gazed over the railing from the safety of the shadows. There in the center of the stage, stood a very nervous Ameilia. The change in her stance did not escape Erik. He frowned as he tried to determine what could have caused her worry.

* * *

Ok…I'm alone. Every one left. Completely, utterly, alone. Good. Ok…don't freak out…just situate yourself on the nice floor. And close your eyes. Think of a happy place…

"Hello, ma cherie."

_So much for a happy place. Crap._

Ameilia was on her feet, her entire body stiff.

"If you think for one second that you'll get within five feet of me, you really need to reevaluate your situation, slime.

"Why such harsh tones with moi? I've not hurt you in any way," Piangi replied.

"No, but I'll hurt you if you come any closer."

"Such confidence. Its very attractive…but, you might want to use it at a different time mon amore. I think I like it when you cower from my gaze."

Ameilia tried to turn and run, but he broke the distance with a few strides and grabbed her wrist.

"Oh, no. You'll not run from me this time." He forced her hand on his cock. "See how hard I am for you. Come, let me show you pleasure, ma petite." He brought his head down to her lips; so pathetic was he that he kept his eyes closed. BIG mistake. With a few inches left between them, Ameilia brought herself up on her toes and bit his nose great force. He pushed her away out of reflex and turned his back to her as he brought his hands to the swollen and bleeding cartilage.

"Little bitch." Piangi turned around to be struck dumb by the stage prop that hit him square in the face. He hit the floor like a rock.

_Softball comes handy…what-do-ya know._

She came down to eye level with the beast that dared defile her and brought a pocketknife out from her pocket, placing it gently between his legs. He shook his head and came back to consciousness, but stiffed as he realized the position he was in.

"You didn't really think that I wouldn't come prepared this time, did you? Try and touch me again, and I'll change your life with the flick of my wrist. _Tu comprends_?" She asked in his native tongue.

He gave a reluctant nod. "Oui."

Ameilia got up with the knife at the ready, lest he attack. Piangi got on his feet, and turned to leave. He stopped, letting the silence eat at them both as he looked into her eyes.

"The game is not yet over ma cherie. I always win."

With that last remark, he was gone.

Ameilia dropped to the floor, and looked to find comfort from the tears that came down her cheeks.

* * *

_Did my eyes deceive me? I don't understand. How had I not seen the signs before? Piangi. The sack of fat…trying to-_

He fumbled around as he managed to hit the right stone on the wall to enter his home. His hands shook with such rage, that he couldn't manage to find the right knob on the trap door.

He let a low grunt escape his lips as he finally managed to open it. He began pacing as he entered his home.

_She sleeps on the stage...she doesn't have a room. He can come in the night and she wouldn't know what struck her!_

_Erik, leave it. You can't go around and-_

_Damn it! Enough with those bloody thoughts…"leave it," "leave her be," "she's not yours Erik," she might as well be mine! God knows I worry for her as if she were. No, I'm tired of this reluctant behavior from me. I will take matters in my own hands now._

"But how," he thoughts out load. He looked at his organ always the muse for his mind.

Now, having lain to rest his super-ego, Erik was now able to completely succumb to his inner id and all its glory.

_Yes Erik, that's it. Do what you need to do. Right a letter. Make threats. Become the Phantom again. Show them that you are not merely man, nor ghost, but a being who will have his way safe of objections. Show them all. Have fun, my friend; you've long deserved it…_

With that Erik sat down, and started concocting a plan.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Gaston Leroux except for Ameilia.

I hope you enjoy this…sorry it took an eon to post this chapter…but you know, sometimes all it takes is encouragement to inspire a writer…

Chapter 10

"Andrea?"

"Oui, Firmin."

"Did you happen to receive a letter this morning?" In response, M. Andrea took a parchment from his inner coat pocket and brought it to eye level.

"It's happening again," Andrea exclaimed.

"Yes but do you think we should put leverage on his threats? He's but a man. I don't want to bring up a subject that we've already laid to rest. I say we ignore this…this Opera Ghost and let him go back to the shadows were he belongs."

"And what of the consequences. We know he kills. He's a danger to any one within his reach. It could be far worse this time. I think we should try and negotiate."

"Negotiate?" Firmin asked with mock amusement. "Negotiate…with a half crazed, half psychotic man who fancies prancing about an opera house saying 'boo' to those who pass by? I think he's rubbing off on you."

"Well, what do you expect me to say? Oh, yes, lets put aside all threats and act as if nothings wrong, then, when we have our throats slit and on display at the ticket booth, we can wish me made a wiser decision!" M. Andrea voice dripped of sarcasm as slowly crescendo into a burst of outrage.

"If memory serves, I believe it was a lasso that met the end of the phantom's victims," Firmin replied lightly.

M. Andrea gave a wave of his hand, "all the same, he wants the girl to excel. Then let her excel. You know she has the talent. All he asks for his her own room."

"Andrea! You miss the point. Can you not read between the lines? It says right here…his last statement:

I expect these instructions followed, and arrangements made. Lest you loose more than your precious chandelier.

M. Firmin sniffed the parchment. "And I swear the last sentence was written in blood! Look at the color! He wants our heads. Bloodlust. That's all it is. Bloodlust."

"I'll not follow you to the rope Firmin. I'd rather suffer the gallows or kiss Madame Guillotine than be left in the hands of the Phantom! My mind is made…I plan to answer to his commands."

* * *

_Everything goes smoothly. Perfect. Look at her, they've even moved her up on the stage. Beautiful. Delicate…mine._

_There, there Erik. Don't get ahead of yourself. All in good time. Follow the plan. You'll get everything in the end._

_And if something is to go wrong? If there is a flaw-_

_But, we've insured that there isn't. No need to worry yourself. The skin of your set up is without blemish._

The sight of Ameilia, momentarily distracted Erik. There she stood, in all her glory. Singing in the chorus, her voice unconsciously soaring high above all the others.

_Beautiful._

And with that thought came the reminder of his plan. Othello's solo would take place now. Piangi would be on center stage.

_How pitiful…when one doesn't know that his end is near…_

_Don't worry yourself over that fool Erik! Go through with the plan…you just need to get close enough to-_

_Oh… I don't worry. In fact, I feel a refreshing change in the wind…_

_Good. Finally Erik, you've succumbed to your destiny._

_That of a killer?_

_No. The man who gets what he wants._

_Yes._

* * *

Carlotta took hold of Ameilia's hand during Othello's solo, and brought her down stage.

"Tell me everything now," she whispered in an urgent tone.

"For the final time Carlotta, I have NO idea what you're talking about."

"Don't act a fool with me, you whore."

"Say that again, I dare you."

"Enough of your childish games. Don't think that I don't notice things around this opera house. There isn't a man who sneezes without me knowing about it!"

"Your point being?"

"I see the way my husband looks at you. Its obvious what you've done!"

"Really? Please, enlighten me. What is it that I've done 'oh queen, mine?'"

"You are trying to win his attention to distract me!"

Ameilia laughed and moved to walk away but Carlotta grabbed her hand, forcing her to stay lest a scene hold the attention of the company.

"Oh, don't deny it. But I also know that you have a hidden agenda," at Ameilia's uninterested look, she continued. "You have hidden desires for him, don't you? I can't blame you; he is a handsome and talented man. But know that he is MINE, and any one who tries to take him from me will pay!"

Ameilia didn't know whether to go into a fit of laughter or give Carlotta a belated awakening on the man she so desperately cleaved.

"I think you need to reassess the facts. I have done nothing to attract your husband to me."

"You don't need to! He is a man, and you're like a siren's call!"

"Thanks for the complement," Ameilia mentioned under her breath.

"It was an insult!"

"Fine then…I really don't care…this conversation bores me."

Again, Carlotta grabbed Ameilia's arm. Immediately, anger filled her being. Her fists clenched in an attempt to calm herself, but the lava was reaching the surface. Now, all she could do was wait until the volcano that was her mind, would blow.

"Touch me again and I'll make you rue the day, you great blind cow."

"Now you-

"…Listen here. I'm not going to take anymore of this crap you're giving me. Want to know the truth?" Ameilia didn't wait for her response. "Your husband is a pig who gets an erection from the mere sight of a female. And to think of it, now I see what attracted you to him…you're both animals. Mindless sex crazed monsters that are only capable of doing one-

* * *

_Yes Erik, make your way to the stage. Good. Loosen the rope. Yes, that's it. Good. Now watch as it falls and squeezes the live out of Piangi._

_Wait…NO!_

* * *

Ameilia was cut short by Carlotta's surprisingly powerful blow to the face. Ameilia fell back a few feet and landed on her back, just as Piangi stepped forward on her right. She opened her eyes long enough to see the stage banner plummeting down just above her and the distinct figure of man, shadowed by the darkness. She closed her eyes; only allowing herself to hear the crash of the wood against the floor mixed a piercing cry she could only assume was hers.

* * *

_What have I done?_

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is the proper owner of all the characters…except Ameilia.

And a great (belated) "thank you" to LadyGabriel, Etienette Labuergman, flame the keyblade dragon, PhanGirl-Baby, and StarLitDarkness for the encouraging reviews. (round of applause)

Chapter 11

There was silence in the aftermath of the accident. Ameilia lay there, unmoving. The crowd was rendered immobile as they stood in shock. There was no advance to help her. No movement, only silence. All heads turned to M. Firmin and M. Andrea as they entered the auditorium. Ameilia was coming in and out of consciousness, struggling to lift the banner and failing. As the two managers emerged and the scene came into view, their faces contracted into a grimace of worry as the set off at a sprint towards the stage.

"What happened?" M. Firmin asked in an uneven tone.

No answer.

"Well will some one take the damn banner of the girl," M. Andrea asked, slightly irritated.

"It's happening again," Firmin muttered in a low whisper. Andrea turned on him.

"I told you! I told you if we didn't obey him there would be consequences! Why Firmin, could you not listen?"

Firmin stood in shock, unable to move. He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to find his voice.

"I…all…all the letters he wrote were designed for her benefit. I…I don't understand why he would try to kill her."

There were rapid whispers from the company as Firmin let this revelation slip in his moment of confusion.

Men from the company were moving the large piece of wood that was trapping Ameilia. Her eyelids fluttered a bit as she began to quietly moan from pain.

_Well damn me, that really hurt._

"Well?" At the company's blank look, Andrea elaborated in an exasperated tone. "Well, is she alive?"

"I believe so sir. She's breathing," a dance member exclaimed.

Andrea let out a sigh of relief as Firmin shifted the weight on his feet.

Firmin was the first to speak.

"Take her to the vacant dressing room at the end of the hall. Put her on the divan. I'm sure rest is all she needs," he added in a nervous tone.

* * *

_What have I done? How could this have happened?_

Erik cradled his head as let out a cry of anguish. The idea that he could have possibly hurt her, his Ameilia, tore at his very soul.

_The look in those violet eyes as she prepared herself for the pain…the pain I inflicted._

_I thought there would be…there couldn't be a flaw. The timing was perfect. Everything was calculated. I don't understand._

_Erik, there's always a possibility that something can go wrong. Surely you know that by now._

_But, why her? If it were any one…any one else, it wouldn't have mattered. Why her?_

_Life is cruel Erik._

_I would have done well to just stay out of the whole affair._

_Erik! Don't speak of such things. It was a mistake. You can fix it._

_But how?_

_They finally gave her a room for herself._

_Yes, they did. But that room is-_

_Yes, its Christine's old room. I daresay the only vacant room. The management was frightened out of their wits at the notion of its use._

_But how can that help the situation. Oh, yes, great plan…let the memories flood me with even more misery._

_You miss the point Erik. This can work to your advantage! Use the mirror Erik._

"Yes. The mirror."

* * *

"Where am I?" Ameilia was just stirring back to consciousness.

"In a dressing room. Just rest. You'll be fine," a company member answered before leaving.

_Well I don't fucking feel fine._

_Ugh, God it hurts._

Her eyes burned with the urge to cry. They rimmed with tears that began to flow in silence.

* * *

_Damn, she is awake. Oh, please don't cry, my love. Please. I didn't mean you harm. My intensions were good. Honest, everything I've done lately has been for you. Please, don't feel pain._

Erik rested his head against the mirror that separated himself from Ameilia. He watched as tears spilled down her face. He softly began to sing:

"Darling come back to me, sing to me, be with me now.

What will I do when alone in the dark? Crying your name; it will never stop.

Please just don't leave me when I truly need you the most. How could the path of life which I had turn so sharply I fell of its track?"

_Look at how she stirs at the sound of your voice Erik. It comforts her. Go to her. She could be injured. The imbeciles didn't even check her for wounds!_

_And if she cowers from me?_

_Pretend. Like you've been condemned to do since birth._

* * *

_T__hat voice is so beautiful. Oh I want it but…I can't move. Damn the pain. I have to try. Why did it stop? No don't leave!_

Ameilia tried desperately to get herself off, but she had no control over her limbs and only managed to roll of the divan and thus, throw herself on the floor. She closed her eyes and let out a muffled cry of pain as the feeling of having her chest speared took over. She lay face down, unmoving. She felt a pair of large hands gently lift her up off the ground. Her eyes remained closed until she mustered the courage to open them.

_I didn't hear the door open._

The trepidation was overwhelming. There stood the man she had seen the first day and…and somewhere else…

"Don't be frightened, I mean you no harm," Erik said.

She gawked at him, transfixed by the beauty of his voice…that is, before dawning penetrated her being. Her eyes widened as she feebly tried to scramble away from him, only managing to slump in an uncomfortable position and give up the struggle. Again he tried to help her up.

"Don't touch me," she exclaimed with far more valor than she felt.

A hint of anger was in his tone when he answered.

"I said I would not harm you. I won't. You can always take me for a man of my word."

He helped her in a sitting position despite her protests.

"Now tell me," he continued, "where does it hurt?"

"Why…why are you trying to help me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're the one who made the banner fall on me! I saw you in the shadows."

"Please, trust me when I say that was not my intension. It was aimed for another."

"For who?"

Erik felt extremely uncomfortable in this situation, and it didn't help that his anger was rising. He was not a man who usually had to explain his actions. After a moment she gave a light giggle. He turned to her and scowled.

"And what, may I ask, is funny?"

"Nothing…nothing," she managed between laughs.

"No, please, I want to know," he answered in a serious tone.

"Do you have any idea what you look like when you're uncomfortable?"

Erik frowned in confusion and patiently waited for an explanation.

"Even without seeing your face, I can practically FEEL your discomfort radiating from your body language. If I was into the whole thing, I would say that your aura is in desperate need of some divine intervention." She smiled at him. "Its extremely entertaining."

"Well, I'm happy to please you," he answered sarcastically.

She smiled at me. She bestowed that gift. She SMILED. Oh, how I love you. Please, do it again. Always. Always do that for me.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Gaston Lerouxowner…Ia looser and…nope…that's it. D

I seriously reached an impasse while writing this chapter…my stupid mind decided NOW to shut down. Ha D Well…hope you like this.

THANK YOU TIME! The honors go to shinigamiredrose and Lady Gabriel (claps)

PLEASE COMMENT. I NEED SOME REASSURANCE…unless you hate it…but then…why are you still reading?

LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR

WARNING: EXTREME EXPLICIT CONTENT. BEWARE AHEAD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Chapter 12

"Am I dreaming?"

He gave a slight frown and pondered her questions before answering.

"No. You're not dreaming. Why would you ask?"

"Your voice is," she looked down in concentration. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with wonder. "It makes me…," again, she looked around frustrated with herself.

Erik waited patiently.

"Yes?" He intoned, in what he hoped was encouraging.

"It makes me feel…whole." She looked up in question, as though the words were inadequate but had escaped her.

_You'll never know how much that means to me._

* * *

Piangi moved with pompous arrogance as he strutted down the hall, Firmin and Andrea quickly following his lead.

"I don't understand Signor, why the sudden interest in the girl?" Andrea asked as Firmin wiped the increasing precipitation off his left brow.

"The opera is better with a talented chorus girl. I only care of her condition for the opera," Piangi answered lightly. Firmin immediately interjected.

"But mayhap it would be…wise to let her rest," he asked anxiously.

Piangi ignored the suggestion and continued his pace. Firmin grabbed the cuff of Andrea's sleeve and held him back.

"Andrea, the Phantom took a liking to the girl. Then he tried to kill her. I don't think it prudent for a man to request a private audience with a girl who has infatuated the very man who caused her near death! We're asking for a war if we allow this."

"I understand your reasoning, and I agree, but we can't very well explain our concerns to a cast member. The entire company gossips like a group of bloody bitches! Word of our worries would be out by tomorrow and the entire town would be scurrying themselves over with torches."

"I know, I know, but what of consequences if we allow this to continue, " he pointed in the direction of Piangi. "Do you forget the Phantom's possessiveness, or are you merely sidetracked by the memory of what he will do if he feels threatened that what he considers his will leave him?"

"Firmin, the public think him dead. We told the press he is dead. We had a damned publicity party titled, "He's Dead." We can't allow this to get out. Let Piangi visit the girl; it might extinguish any unwanted suspicion.

* * *

There was a knock at the door.

_Damn_

Erik moved to leave.

"Wait," Ameilia said as she struggled into a sitting position. "You're not leaving are you?"

"It seems you've company."

Another knock.

"But-"

Knock.

"…Will I see you again?"

Erik studied her for a moment.

"If that is your wish." He waited for her answer. She looked down studying her hands. When she looked up she had a joyous gleam in them.

"Yes. It is."

He smiled at her. His heart warmed by the simple sentiment.

"Then rest assured. I am always-

Knock.

_Damnable knock. I want to bloody kill whoever's at the door._

"…Always at your command."

He turned and left.

* * *

_Th__at was wonderful Erik. Truly. I am happy for you._

_She did seem to like me. I knew she would be different. It went perfectly._

Erik sat in front of his organ. Gazing at her keys. He ran a hand along the smooth surface longingly. Though music had been his first love, he hadn't actually played his beloved instrument since the night Christine had left. The music his mind had conjured while in his state of deep depression was so disturbing, that even he, the composer of Don Juan Triumphant, couldn't stand the thought of the work ever being heard by human ears. So, he left them to rot in his mind, but that only increased his state of lunacy as the music took him over, body and soul. As he sat, his mind clouded with the happy thoughts that were Ameilia, his hands crept up to the keys and began to play a haunting melody, a melody that promised passion, redemption, and, dare he think it, love.

* * *

Ameilia felt better, revived, from the visit with the man she now knew as Erik. Still, the two-foot journey from her resting place to the door took her a few minutes to reach.

"Who is it," she called as she turned the knob. Too late.

Piangi strolled in with the presence of a tyrant king, causing her to loose balance in the process and slump against the wall for support. He halted in mid stride and came back to lock the door, putting its key in his inner pocket. He turned and addressed her in a far too pleasant manner.

"Weak are we? Have no strength to hit me again? Oh, for shame!"

He moved to help her with a sympathetic expression, which was completely voided by the rough yank he gave to her body, throwing her on the divan. She stared at him in shock, the pain increasing from the abrupt movement, rendering her speechless and grimacing.

"Ma cherie, surely you didn't think that I would leave this business behind us on the little threat you gave me. No, you are much to clever for that."

He came forward and she could only watch in helplessness as he reached for a sash from his pants pocket and tied it with a brutal thrust against her mouth.

"I just begin by saying to you, that it is night," when she looked at him in incomprehension he clarified.

"You have been unconscious during the prime hours of the day. It is night, and every one is tucked away in their beds. Your mouth is muzzled. No one will hear you if you scream, and even if they did, no one would bother to help you."

He sat down on the divan, her eyes followed his moves even as she remained still. He patted her thigh and turned to her.

"I will be forward with you, pet. I am going to fuck you. I am going to fuck you hard. I am going to tear your maidenhead as you choke on your own screams. I have a few toys under my coat that will help this night be engraved in your mind till the day to die."

He patted her thigh once more and gave her a smile. It took all her effort to swallow the rising bile in her throat. He got up and began removing his clothes. She stayed, numb to the point of oblivion.

"I would force you to undress me yourself, but as you are weak…" He trailed off as he removed his trousers, revealing the revolting thick arousal. He looked down at Ameilia.

"I can't say I like the lack of fight in you cherie. Though, this will be easier."

He unbuttoned her dress and removed her chemise till she was naked beneath him. Ameilia closed her eyes and let her mind wander to a different place, a better place, as the events unfolded.

* * *

"Doctor, what are we going to do," Nurse Mary asked.

"Growing attached? You know better. She's just a patient."

"Two days Bill. She has two days then they're taking her off life support. She's getting better. She'll come through, I know it!"

"Not our place Mary. You know just as well as I that Ms. Rosannia has a snowball's chance in hell of waking up. Brain-dead Mary. No activity in the mind." Bill looked at Mary with a mixture of pity and sympathy. "You can't save'em all. Best let it go." With that, the doctor left Nurse Mary with the young girl whose life every one thought was lost.

* * *

Piangi lowered his head to her neck, inhaling the scent of his desire as he ran his tongue along the length up to the corner of her mouth. With his teeth, he pulled the sash off.

"Remember, no one will hear you. Don't waist precious breath on screaming. It will only arouse me."

He pushed against her closed lips and used his tongue to explore her mouth. The movement was tentative at first, but within a few moments it was frenzied. He brutally thrust into the sensitive buds, nearly choking her with the force. It was continuous. When she tried with the last of her might, to push against his torso, he bit hard on her tongue, causing blood to well up at the spot. Instead of backing away, he seemed desperate to suck every last drop, finishing, by running the now blood coated tongue along her face.

He reached down between her legs and cupped her. He spread her legs and, without a moment wasted, viciously thrust into her, tearing her maidenhead, stealing her virginity, and scaring her, beyond the confines of mere physical abuse.

_This…is hell._

Continuing in his motion, he pounded into her with relentless force. The tears that fell down her face were unconscious, and seemed to arouse him beyond compare.

For Ameilia, time stopped. Or, rather time continued, but it simply felt slower in the cosmos of her mind, where every thrust of this beast above her was like the continued impact of a train, watched as if in slow motion from an onlooker. So, with that, she could justify that this wasn't actually happening to her, but a figment of her imagination. But if the imagination concludes an outcome based on the heart's desire, how could it have derived a scenario such as this?

No, this was reality, whatever reality was, and at the moment it wanted to spite her. So, it continued, "continue" being the action, and the only action. Never ending.

Piangi stopped only long enough to turn her over, face now shoved into the divan. He leaned down, pressing his body firmly to her backside, and whispered in her ear.

"Cherie, do you know of the hidden pleasure I am being so gracious as to teach you? Do you know of all the different ways I can fuck you? Do you know how wonderful it will feel to have my little…well, I'm being modest, my large member pounding into your tight asshole? Do you know of the sensation? Of course you don't! Ah, but I will teach you. I will be your master, and you my slave."

He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her down and held her at a kneeling position.

"Then show me your loyalty. Bow to your master,"

He shoved her head to the tip of his large penis. With his free hand, he pried her mouth open and pushed her farther to take the entire length in her mouth. Continuous. Out and in. Out and in. Continuous.

"Yes…yes," he drew the word out, emphasizing the "s."

Ameilia's eyes drifted to the key hanged out of the sprawled coat on the floor.

A way out. Body…aches. Can do it. Try.

Ameilia conjured courage, and bit down hard on Piangi's cock. He let out a strangled cry as he hit the floor. Ameilia scrambled for the door. Her fingers were closing around the key as she felt those vile hands grab her shoulders and pull her up. He held her and forced her face up to look at him, and smiled. He SMILED.

"Tsk, tsk, cherie."

He took her hand and forced it on his erection, which seemed to have gotten even bigger, if that was humanly possible.

"This only arouses me, cherie. Since you are an innocent, I will explain."

He backhanded her across the face. She 360ed before hitting the floor full force. He gingerly picked her up and put her back on the divan. Standing over her, he continued.

"I like it when you hurt me. It makes me feel happy. I LIKE it."

He pointed to the evidence of his arousal.

"This gets bigger if I like it. So…I would have loved to continue this game with you cherie, but today, I really want to be the Dominator. So, you will simply have to find contentment with your role."

He placed a knee on the divan and hit her, and hit her again, and again, and again, till she lost count and let the numbness overtake her.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux equals Owner…I equal looser

And a very big THANK YOU! to LadyGabriel and shinigamiredrose for showing their support by commenting on the story…and boosting my ego…leaving a very stupid and awkward grin on my face (smiles)….(for hours). They simple act means a lot. I thank you.

Chapter 13

Erik stood in his concealed spot in box five with a frown on his face. Below him were the company dancers doing a very poor version of a ballet from the current ballad being performed, the chorus girls singing flat-pitched and emotionless as usual, the "stars" of the show making a mockery of themselves, and two orchestra members arguing over a solo role that neither had the competence to play. Though pitifully annoying, it was a customary day, except for one thing. Ameilia was absent.

_I checked for wounds. Rest would have been all she needed. She's not the type to miss a rehearsal. Something's wrong._

_Now, now Erik, don't fret. I'm sure she's fine. Running late. Yes, that's it. She's running late._

He waited till the end of rehearsal, his frame tense, his fingers clenched at his sides, and his gut in knots. He waited, and still, there was no sign of Ameilia.

* * *

Erik was running down the hidden corridors, desperate to reach the cellars and make his way to Ameilia's room. He loathed wasting time, but he couldn't risk being seen entering her room. His heart was pounding in his chest, more from worry than the run. He paid no heed to his actions as he carelessly pounded his fists against the wall, trying to hit the correct lever that would open a shortcut, a secret passageway that leads directly to the corridor of the mirror. He felt the tingling sensation of blood as it ran down his arm, soaking the cuffs of his sleeves. He sprinted the remainder of the way, but stopped short of the mirror.

He saw her. He saw her lying there. He saw her lying there, neatly arranged on the divan. He saw her lying there, neatly arranged on the divan with dried blood covering her face. Blood. Bruises. He saw bruises on her neck, were some one had chocked her.

His hands were trembling. She was motionless.

_Go Erik. **Help** her._

_I…can't._

_Why Erik? Why can't you? You waist precious time. She needs medical attention. HELP HER DAMNIT._

_Can't._

Erik stood scratching at the mirror, at the only thing that separated him from Ameila. It would be so easy to release the latch that would open the mirror. So easy to reach his love.

Erik didn't cry. Didn't weep, sob, or whimper. True, the wet currents that flowed down his face were tears, but could the emotion that was passing behind his eyes be compared to so trivial a word? Could rage, sorrow, hatred, self-loathing, revulsion, disgust, fear, odium, grief, regret, redemption, purpose, knowledge, laughter, and revenge, with all of their unique characteristics be described as tears? No. This was a promise. And Erik always fulfilled his promises. The only evidence of this silent vow was his roar that seemed to shake the earth and the heavens alike.

Time for safe-play, and forgiveness had long passed. Time for hesitation and tentativeness was gone. Now was the time. Now was his time. And he'd be damned if any one took this, her, away from him.

So, with something similar to the ancient war cries, Erik rose, and brought down both fists on the mirror. It shattered into millions of tiny pieces, leaving nothing of the mirror it use to be. Only glass. Glass and dried mercury. Erik stepped over the rubble and picked Ameilia up. He turned and left for his home.

He looked down at her blood stained face, and at his hands that matched in grotesque appearance. At this moment, they were equal. She was as he was, wounded. Scared. And at this moment, she couldn't have been any more beautiful to him.

He smiled down at her.

"You're so beautiful. My own Aphrodite. I love you. I'm going to take care of you."

He gently moved a wet curl from her cheek.

"You're going to be under my protection now. No one can harm you. You're mine."

He looked up and smiled the whole way down to his home.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ok…I'm aware that this was a really short chapter, but I thought that this encounter deserved its own space…

In case you are wondering why Erik is acting so weird…and probably not the way you thought he would once he found Ameilia, is because…well…he lost his mind.

Seeing Ameilia in her state caused him to have a mental breakdown. Now, I know some of you might think that is very un-Erik-like, but just imagine that you have been victim to constant turmoil and abuse for sixty years…and you just lost your first love, AND the person who you now love more than any one…and who makes you feel like a man, is half dead…

Tell me how you might react?

But don't worry (smiles) …things are going to get very interesting ahead, and the "promise" Erik made will become evident in later chapters.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux EQUALS Owner…I EQUAL looser

THANK YOU TIME GOES TO LadyGabriel and shinigamiredrose for commenting on my story :D They give me the incentive to continue writing this…thing...YOU GUYS ARE MY HERO…I kid you not.

* * *

Chapter 14

There was a roar. Erik was pacing around the entrance room of his home.

_Defiled. He DEFILED her!_

Another bellow. Another cry of anguish. Erik was destroying everything in his path, reaching for tables, ripping irreplaceable Persian rugs that he had acquired from his days as the "Trap Door Lover," throwing all his drinks into the furnace. Destroying. Oh, and how he wanted to destroy the man who did this to Ameilia. How he wanted to obliterate that beast and feed him his testicles. How he wanted to mutilate. He wanted blood. He wanted revenge. And he knew the man who would suffer his wrath. He knew the identity. The scent. The person, and the persona.

_Piangi._

Erik heard a moan. He raced over the debris that once was his home, smiling as he reached Ameilia's side. He had stopped wearing his mask the night he found her. The tears were causing the cloth of his mask to stick to his face. It was all too uncomfortable. And it wasn't as if she was ever going to leave him, so he had nothing to fear. He reached a hand out and stroked her cheek.

"There, there, love. Nothings astray. You're alright."

"…Hu-hurts," she murmured and trailed off into unconsciousness.

"Yes love, I know, but Erik is going to make it better. Erik is going to make them pay. Make them all pay."

He reached down and kissed her forehead.

"You're mine now, and I protect what's mine."

**Author's note**

Again…I apologize for this being so short. I've been victim to writer's block. Also…I'm out of town for about a month and won't be able to really write. I again, apologize. I know it sounds lame…but comments help. I just need some encouragement. I mean, I have the ideas in my head, somewhere, but I just…need…well, time to sort them out. My mind is getting on my nerves. It's acting a fool, constantly changing courses and what not. It isn't sticking to one plot…is creating sub-plots…and can't make up its mind. Then, when I try to reason with it, it goes blank and won't allow me to delve further into its depths. But with some force it will succumb to my whim. I promise…it also doesn't help that Warren Creed, my muse (see profile), is becoming distant with me…says that _I'M_ changing…urg (grunt).


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